Hour of Power

If you dont know you soon will.  It cant really be considered a game, more of a endurance challenge.  Endurance of your drinking skills!  Not for the weak ragers and need to be taken seriously.  More for a night chillin with a few friends when there are no ragers to find.  To prepare yourself one must beware of the time between you last ate and when the hour of beer power starts.  Be warned not enough digestion time will result in puking, not to say that you wont puke if you dont eat at all.  The one and only rule to the endurance challenge one shot of beer  for every minute for 1 hour.  Simple enough.  Guess again.  After the first 5 or 10 you think to yourself that this is cake shit and everyone is just pussy and cant hold their drank.  Then you hit 20-25 and realize your stomach is getting full.  IMPORTANT! when your stomach feels full dont not try and puke! just burp and your be able to cram about 5-8 more shots down.  Now the art of draining sed beer during the challenge.  Pour shot at beginning of minute then run to bathroom.  Ok easier than i thought.  Towards the end you'll be begging for mercy. TRY IT YOU PUSSY.

Level of Crazy

Aright so i feel like i have to talk about thus issue because lately it has been coming up a lot.  So i believe( and this is only me but it is ok if others agree too) that all girls are crazy, just different levels of crazy.  Let me explain because the levels need to be explained.  First off the main point is that every girl is crazy and the level of crazy depends on how well the female can hide her own crazy.  Say you meet a girl at a party or bar or whatever, she is drinkin like a champ and being loud and yelling across the room (see crazy white girl syndrome post) sadly she is probably the least crazy girl at the party. Ya she is loud and a little annoying but at least she wont stab you in your sleep, yes it can happen to you.  Now as i said earlier she more the chick hides her crazy the more she has. Now you would think the more crazy a girl has the more it would be bursting out of her eye balls and bra.  Now this is not to say that every single girl that is "normal" is a phyco killer crazy because i am sure there will be some women activist out there just looking for something to complain about and prove me wrong, to you i say go right ahead one less crazy person to encounter.  So guys beware make sure you are able to find out your own woman's crazy before you try to make things legit

Ghost Rider

Alright so this isn't a drunk story or have any relation with partying but i feel it is funny enough to share with whoever reads this.

At the time it seemed like a fun idea. Since us both pulled it off a few weeks before we didn’t think twice about anything going wrong.  It was a weekend where Thomas’ parents were out of town so we felt the freedom of “living on our own”, even though it wasn’t really on our own since my parents and I lived two houses down.  With this feeling of freedom we were invincible and could do anything we wanted, and that point in time we wanted to “ghost ride”.  How one goes about ghost riding is very simple, the task is performed by stepping out of a slowly moving car (emphasis on slowly) and while the car is still in motion all passengers of the car get out of the car and dance around the moving vehicle as if a ghost was driving the car since there were no passengers inside of it.     

            As mentioned before Thomas and I had performed a ghost ride a week or two before and it was very entertaining.  I slowed the car down to a slow roll and looked over to my friend who had a grin on his face knowing that we were about to embark on a very idiotic and irresponsible performance.  The car only rolled about ten or twenty feet before I jumped back in the car fearful on one of our neighbors catching and telling our parents.  Doors quickly shut and locked right after, as I glanced back at my partner in crime with a look of success I knew that a ghost ride was too much fun to only do once.  I pulled into my parents’ driveway and never talked about the event again scared that my parents would over hear us celebrating our victory.

            The second ghost ride attempt didn’t go as expected.  In this occasion Thomas and I were driving our separate cars down the street from his parentless house down to mine to check in with my parent before leaving for the night.  As stated before the feeling of freedom and confidence was very present.  My blue Honda civic was in front of his silver Honda accord as we both drove down our neighborhood street, and as I looked in my rearview mirror I was able to make out the same grin on his face that I once saw before our ghost ride a few weeks earlier and knew that it was time for attempt two.  His door swung open and I took the cue to open mine as well.  Now not similar to the first attempt the same precautions were not taken.  A turn of the head did not check for spectators of any sort nor the speed of the car reduced, which turns out to be a very important part of ghost riding.  As I go to take my first step out of the car I realized my mistake in not check the speedometer to see if I was moving at the appropriate speed.  Thomas had made the same mistake but he was able to touch one foot the road a realize that he was moving too fast the ghost ride so he pulled his foot back in the car and closed his door, I wasn’t as fortunate.  He looked up to find me face first in the asphalt while my car is rolling away down a street that turns left and a house and the point where the street turns.  What I had done was step out of the car with both feet and suddenly is thrown down to the road, but I wasn’t going down without a fight.  In mid fall my right hand was able to grab the inside door handle in a last second effort to save myself from falling completely out of the car.  Well it turns out a car is much more powerful than a 16 year old boy.  So there I am being dragged down the street by my own car that I had just jumped out of.  All while this is occurring one of my neighbors witness this entire incident while watering his flowers with his green garden hose, I am officially declared a trouble maker idiot in his mind. 

            I let go of the door realizing that I wasn’t going to be able to pull myself up with one arm while being dragged.  As I let go the door shuts and the car continues to roll down the street toward the house at the corner, which has a downhill driveway that if my cars hits will surely be the end of their garage door and peaceful Saturday afternoon.  Instinctively I stand up and begin to run towards the runaway car.  The process of running my shoes fall of like leaves blow of a speeding car in the commercials.  Now barefoot I begin to catch up to my car at which point I throw open the door with one hand and take a leap of faith with one foot forward towards the brake pedal.  The car comes to a sudden halt and the next thing I know I am in the front seat again with the car a few feet away from the downhill driveway and certain disaster.  With adrenaline still pumping through my veins I put in car in park and pull the emergency brake so that that car can’t possibly move again.  While trying to comprehend what all just had happen Thomas pulls up next to me with a look of extreme surprise painted on his face.  I reassure him that I am alright as he hands me my shoes.  He convinces me to check my body just in case I missed something and just to please him.  I find nothing on my arms, legs, or face, but as I pull up my shirt we both notice a small crater size gash in my hip.  The bone was very visible with an outline of blood and blackens skin from the asphalt. I look up to him laughing wondering how this wound was not causing me pain at that time.  And out of the corner of my eye I spot my father at the end of his driveway taking out the trash.  My heart stops yet again, he look up an over at us with our cars in the middle of the street, smiles and waves and walks back into the house.  Turley a bullet dodged more than once in the a few minutes. 

            I have yet to attempt another ghost ride and I don’t think I will ever again.

The Game.

We all know it we all love it, it is the game that forced us to love the taste of beer weather we like it or not.  It is a necessity at every party no matter how big or small the rager gets.  It can become the main focus of the party who won or loss to who.  How long one team rained champs and who gets to play next.  The waiting list can be as long as the line for the new club downtown and if your name is on the list it is sacred.  As the names begin to be crossed off the the teams walk away in defeat you start to get excited and anticipation.  Then finally it is your turn to play and within two turn your done. Defeat.  And as you think about how long you waited to play and how long your game lasted you feel cheated but revenge will be yours because as you look at the list again your name pops up at the bottom with a new team you feel ready and anxious for your next chance at the champs hoping they will still be there when your turn comes around again.  The rules are subject to change from rager to rager but the basic rules are all the same.  It can cause fights over rules but in the situation of a disagreement of rules the final say goes to the owner of the rager.  It can be the highlight of your night and the reason you don't remember the night at all.  It can also be your escape from the stupid bitch upstairs ruining the party for you.  But in the end we all know it we all love it and we look forward to playing again.
Do you know what game I am talking about?

Party on Garth.

Drunkkkk texterwr;ougbaehpribguapi

So there is a serious problem when people, including myself, get drunk and try to text.  Texting is a simple task that everyone can perform thousands of times a day.  But for some reason when any amount of alcohol and texting mix the outcome can become hilarious, terrible, and in rare cases monumentally beneficial.  We all know that the truth comes out when intoxicated and hard to keep in when smashed drunk.  So we think it is a good idea to text our crush and profess our love for them and how they should come over at four in the mourning so we can "prove love".  And sometime this drunk texting booty call works,if the person receiving the drunk text is also smashed out of their mind.  But sometimes they are not and this is when our  conscious is completely shut up by another shot.  But at the time drunk texting seems like the greatest idea at the moment if only you could stop the "k" key from jumping around so you can spell drunk.  And once you finally it the fucking key, by closing one key and using your finger to randomly jab at the keyboard, you realize you have managed to hit 13 other letter that got in the way.  After realizing this you say "fuck it" and are too lazy to change the booty call message and send the the stupid thing.
Jump foreword to the next morning and while looking through your phone over breakfast you realize how big of an idiot you looked like trying to text last night. Oh you'll laugh at yourself seeing what you spelled and tried to say but after your delete the evidence and go about your day knowing that you're going to do it again tonight.
Party on Wanye

"Heres to the night we can't remember with the people we will never forget"

Waking up from the night before and not being able to remember some of the events from the previous rager is a feeling that is a little discouraging.  But where the fun/embarrassment/hilarity is found out.  Going person to person that you remember at the party trying to figure out what events took place between that shot of Jack and the Wendy's drive though.  Finding out that half the party has a video of you dancing in the corner to Kesha by yourself.  And as the next story come you find out that they hot girl at the party oh ya her number is in your phone under sex momma.  Although you can't remember the night you find out you had the time of your life and you know what your probably going to do it again all over the next night.

Party on Garth

OH NO ITS THE COPS!!!!

Ok so there are many raging parties that we go to that might get a little to loud and pist off the old guy/lady who lives next to the raging party.  So these old folks decide to call the cops (probably just casue they are just jealosu  that they couldn't throw a party like us when they were our age) and complain that there are tooo many people and the noise is to loud.  So the cops, being the dick bags that they are (who share this same jealousy and lack the skils to throw such a rager decide to "bust" our bitchin time.  Now there are many ways to handle this situation, many will end up with everyone at the party getting tickets including yourself or your drunk ass getting put in the drunk tank for the night and a huge ass fine (really the drunk tank isn't that bad when you start comparing stories of how you got there with the others who you meet in there).  But there is only one way to get out of the situation totally free and with a story to tell in the morning, if you can remember.  Here is how it is done 1) Have the person who lives there answer the door when the police knock, preferably have who ever answers the door be 21 or someone who lives at the place of raging answer will do too, open the door so that the 5 OH cant see inside(answer the fucking door first of all you idiots, just becasue you don't answer doesn't mean that the cops will think no one is there and will leave, they are not stupid and they will screw everyone there if you do that..) Don't run! If there are people running the cops will know that there are underage ragers there and they will screw everyone they catch
2)Explain to the 5 OH that you didn't mean for the rager to get as big or as loud and tell them that you will make everyone leave asap and go to bed. Usualy the cops will leave and come back later to check that the rager actually ended, or they will sit at your front door until everyone is out of the house.  Don't let the police in!  Even if they ask they cannot come in unless someone who lives there gives them consent to come in so just don't o it you will screw everyone there.
Yep that's how it is done, well at least depending on what city you are in this is what what works when sed rager is in a college known city. Now if sed rager is in a rural area around a high school well haha YOUR FUCKED lol.

Party on Wayne